An Original Trabant, Refurbished, Painted Yellow
by eyesocketsandsuits
Summary: [[ PruMano Oneshots ]] "This car makes me want to weep and then die." Prussia looked up sharply, a hand held protectively on the hood of his car. Romano stood nearby, flicking the ash from his cigarette. He was wearing some nice suit, and his red Ferrari was like a beacon behind him, red and loud against the gray of the World Meeting building. "That's sort of a mean thing to say."
1. Shitty Car

"This car makes me want to weep and then die."

Prussia looked up sharply, a hand held protectively on the hood of his car. Romano stood nearby, flicking the ash from his cigarette. He was wearing some nice suit, and his red Ferrari was like a beacon behind him, red and loud against the gray of the World Meeting building.

"That's sort of a dick thing to say," Prussia said after a second.

"Is it?" Romano asked, but he didn't really seem to be asking a question. Or care about the answer. "What are you even doing here?"

Prussia was acutely aware of his car. He fucking loved his car. He had painted it himself—and tried every conceivable option to scrape the paint off of the windows. Fun fact: car paint was really hard to get off of windows. And the muffler had fallen off. Prussia still had to fix that.

"Uh, I like hanging around, you know? Getting the feel for politics, the arguing, the notes." Prussia grinned. "I miss it. Plus, West needs advice sometimes, because he's a pushover."

Romano snorted, taking another drag of his cigarette. "All right, if you call a total fucking hardass a pushover…" He waved his hand in a vague motion.

Prussia swallowed. "I—You want to go for a drive?"

Romano's eyes flicked from the car to Prussia. "In _that_?"

"Nah, in this shopping cart. Down a hill." He looked back at the paint on his windshield. "You could just say no."

The nation let out a heavy sigh. "If you're going to be a bitch about it, fine."

Prussia watched in a trance as Romano, Romano with the Ferrari and other, important things to do, got in his car. Watched as Romano cranked down the window and held one hand out, cigarette burning close to his knuckles.

Prussia panicked when Romano met his eyes.

"Are you getting in, or…?" Romano raised an eyebrow.

Prussia tried to open the driver's door. The driver side door got stuck sometimes. Prussia shot Romano an awkward grin, placed one foot against the car frame, and managed to haul the door open.

He wasn't sure, but Romano almost looked like he was smiling.

"So, where are we going?"

"I know this really cool place," Prussia said.

The engine started after a couple of tries, and they were off. Romano bummed a cigarette off of Prussia, and Prussia watched from the corner of his eye as he let the spark burn down to his fingers.

There was a lot of traffic. Prussia used this time to look for something interesting. He did not, as he had thought when offering, know Turkey all that well. Romano seemed content to comment about the traffic.

"None of these fuckers can drive," Romano muttered.

"As compared to Italians?"

"We have no laws. Everyone is concerned with getting where they need to fucking go— _unlike this asshole_!" Romano banged his fist against the car door; Prussia winced. He yelled angrily in Italian, switching back to English for, "Mother fucking cunt ass fuck!"

Prussia laughed. "What is your death rates for auto accidents?"

"Does it matter? I can get where I need to go without worrying about _speed limits_. Or pedestrians."

"Holy fuck, you're actually going to kill someone."

Romano pointed at him. "I don't need this from you."

Prussia held up his hands, steering with his knee. "You're going to get sued! You're going to run down someone and then be shocked when you're fucking sued!"

"I'll cross that fucking bridge when I come to it, won't I, Gilbert?"

"I—shit." Prussia cut the wheel, and a chorus of horns followed him down the alley. "It's a shortcut," he explained to Romano. Romano looked unimpressed.

The alley became narrower and narrower, and Prussia was worried that his side mirrors were going to hit the bricks.

Prussia hit the brakes.

"Wow."

"I think I took a wrong turn."

"Why, because we're currently staring at a brick wall?"

"In my defense—"

"'Let me take you for a drive, Romano, even though I don't know the city.' I could have been at a bar by now, getting a buzz for the rest of the meeting." Romano ran a hand over his face, but his fingers weren't hiding the smile. "This is fucking ridiculous."

"Romano?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't back up in a straight line."

Romano laughed. "You're such a fucking loser, oh my God. Switch seats with me."


	2. Lupercalia

**Anonymous said:** A prompt of 'bizarre family traditions' and Prumano?

* * *

This idea had seemed a lot funnier last night when they were drunk. Now, facing the busy quad, Gilbert's knees shook. He crossed his arms, shifted his weight from foot to foot. Lovino was walking toward him.

"You're not fucking with me?" Gilbert asked as soon as he neared.

Lovino looked down at his robe, then back up at Gilbert. "Does it _seem_ like I'm fucking with you?"

Gilbert didn't answer. It was still chilly this early in the year, and Gilbert rubbed his arm. His stomach twisted as Lovino adjusted the belt of his robe. This wasn't happening. This was happening to someone other than Gilbert.

Lovino put his backpack on the ground, and Gilbert took a quick step back.

"Lovino—"

"I swear to God." Lovino crouched down on the ground, glanced up. "If you back out of this _now_ , after last night, I will skin you."

"It—It just doesn't make sense! Like, I've never even…" Gilbert blinked at the masks Lovino pulled out. "Okay, I'm not wearing those."

"You're the one who said he wanted to do this."

"But… But it's a creepy goat mask."

"Lamb," Lovino corrected, handing him the mask. "It's a creepy _lamb_ mask."

"Oh, you're right, that makes it all so much better." Gilbert blew into his hands. "But I guess it's good, because then people can't see our faces." His stomach did another painful roll. "Are we _really_ doing this?"

Lovino put the mask on and looked at him. It was really fucking creepy.

"Aw, man." Gilbert put the mask on. His breath blew back into his face, loud in his ears. The world narrowed into two, tiny holes. "Aw, _man_. No. No. Let's fucking _do_ this."

They stood there, a few people giving them strange looks as they stood there in their bathrobes and masks. Lovino looked at him, waited for him, because he would run naked through the college, but not alone.

Gilbert wanted to cry as he ripped off his robe and pelted down the campus. His sneakers—the only other part of his body covered—slapped against the concrete. It was cold. It was cold running through the February air. It was cold running through the cheers and wolf-whistles.

A thought hit him as he passed his favorite lecture hall—

 _Lovino better be fucking following him_.

Gilbert looked to either side of him, and it took him a few tries before he saw Lovino jogging next to him. Fucking track star, while Gilbert was already out of breath. He didn't have the cardio for this nonsense. Then Gilbert noticed Lovino was holding is robe under his arm.

Gilbert looked forward and focused on running.

This was fine. It wasn't the first time Gilbert had been naked.

A security guard lumbered into view, and Gilbert panicked. He grabbed Lovino's wrist and yanked him off the pathway and through the campus lawn. The guard yelled after them, but they were already a field away.

How long were they even supposed to run for?

"Did you not bring your bathrobe?" Lovino asked, voice even.

"I—" Gilbert was not having such an easy time responding. "Didn't… think… of it," he panted.

"What the fuck. We have to circle back and grab it."

Well, shit, that made sense. Gilbert's chest was aching, and his legs were cramping. He had a stich in his side.

"Let's… just… go to… your dorm."

"I'm not having you run naked through my dorm."

"I'm… _dying_."

Lovino glared at him. "You're literally the worst person ever to do this with. Take this next right, and the room's right there." Gilbert missed the next bit, because the mask muffled Lovino's voice, and blood was roaring in his ears, and he was dying.

 **...**

"Off the couch."

Gilbert looked over, still trying to catch his breath. "What?"

"Get your nasty, bare ass off my couch." Lovino grinned. "I can't believe you agreed to do that."

"I still don't believe that you did that." Gilbert fell to the floor, making sure the towel covered everything important.

"Every February." Lovino had changed into his jeans. "My grandfather—he ran with this really weird group of people. Feliciano and I didn't even think of it. It was fun, you know? Running naked at dark. We'd get something warm to drink, after."

"No one called the cops?"

"Would you?"

The smile hadn't dropped from Lovino's face, and Gilbert found himself grinning back like an idiot.

* * *

 **Lupercalia:**

 **A Roman holiday from February 13-15. A lamb would be sacrificed. Then, men would get naked, wear some slaughtered sheep skin, and run through the streets. Women hoping to get pregnant would stand out in the streets and get whipped by the naked men.**

 **Romans were weirdos.**


	3. Thirteen

**Anonymous said:** "i did that annoying thing where i put loads of smaller boxes inside one big box and you're getting really mad but you don't know..." and prumano please omgg (and also i love your blog! like! so much!)

 **Holla**

* * *

 **December 1st:**

Gilbert brought in a giant fucking box. It barely fit through the doorway, and Lovino just sort of stared as Gilbert finally gave up and laid the box on its side and dragged it into the living room.

"No."

Gilbert stood and put his hands on his hips. "Yes!"

"I thought we fucking talked about this. There was a thirty dollar gift cap."

Gilbert scoffed. "Fuck you, maybe this is just a giant body pillow."

"But it's not, is it? It's something really stupid. I haven't even _bought_ your gift yet. What are you _doing_ with that thing? Take it away."

He continued dragging the box over to the Christmas tree.

"Gilbert, take the fucking box away."

"Look, I'm not making you open it, okay? It's just going to… lay here… by the tree." Gilbert stood and dusted off his hands. He grinned at Lovino. "I bet you want to open it, huh?"

"Nope."

"What? Yes, you do. Look at it." Gilbert pointed. "Look how _big_ it is. It's almost as big as I am."

"As big as your ego." Lovino grinned at his joke, but quickly wiped it off his face. "But I told you, I'm not accepting anything stupid and expensive. Thirty dollars."

Gilbert looked from the box to Lovino. "It's a body pillow."

"It better fucking be."

 **December 2nd:**

"Gilbert!"

Gilbert looked up from his cereal. Lovino marched over to him, shoved the phone in his face.

"That better _not_ be a fucking body pillow. That shit is like, a hundred dollars!" Lovino scrolled through amazon. "And shit, that's just because it's close to Christmas! When the hell did you even buy this thing?"

Gilbert grinned and took another bite of cereal, chewing slowly. Finally, "You _are_ curious!"

Lovino frowned and hunched his shoulders. "I'm _not_. I'm making sure that you didn't wreck our finances. I already have to buy a shit ton of presents for Feliciano, which is gonna' wipe us out. I don't need your help."

Gilbert just smiled.

"It _isn't_ a body pillow, is it?"

Gilbert mimed zipping his lips shut.

"You're a giant fucking asshole, and you're getting socks for Christmas because you suck." Lovino shoved his phone in his pocket and grabbed Gilbert's cereal. He drank all the milk, then pushed the bowl back at him.

 **December 10th:**

The mail came. Lovino flipped through the letters, froze at the bank statement. He threw the other mail down on the table and ripped over the envelope, eyes tripping over the words.

"Oh, my God."

Lovino found the house phone—only used for emergencies—and dialed Gilbert's number. He paced around the kitchen, straightening pans. He glared at a hole in his sock, and stocked over to the laundry room to get another one.

"What's—"

"Two hundred and fifty dollars?! What the _hell_ , Gilbert! Did you have to pay for a fucking funeral? Did you have to pay for a wedding? Are you going to buy a bouncy castle, next?! Did you buy me a ball gown?" Lovino ripped off his sock.

"Lovino—"

"Don't _Lovino_ me!"

Gilbert sighed, and Lovino pictured him leaning back in his office chair. "Look, I didn't want to worry you—"

"It's the Christmas gift, isn't it?"

Gilbert choked.

" _Thirty dollar cap_!"

"It isn't the Christmas gift!"

Lovino dug through the dryer. "That's some _bull_ shit if I ever heard some! Did the fucking dog eat my sock again? Did you buy me two hundred and fifty pairs of socks?! _Is that it_?"

"Uh."

"Oh my God."

"No, Lovino, it isn't what you think! Okay, it _isn't_ a body pillow. But trust me, it isn't the Christmas gift, okay? Lovino?"

Lovino found a sock. "What was it?"

"Ludwig."

"Ludwig?"

Gilbert cleared his throat. "Look, he didn't want me to mention it to you, but… Uh… He's been having… trouble getting _it_ up."

"'It?'"

"His dick." Gilbert cleared his throat again. "So, I… Well, I bought him Viagra. And a doctor's appointment. To… fix his dick. You know."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Lovino nodded, slowly. "That's his Christmas gift, then. The gift of fucking my brother."

"Deal."

Lovino hung up the phone and stared blankly at the dryer. "Ew."

 **Christmas Morning:**

"No."

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "You fucking haul this thing in here, tease me with it, and now you're telling me _not_ to open it? Is this one of those stupid 'reverse psychology' things you're always trying?"

Gilbert stood in front of the box. "I. Uh. I…"

Lovino nodded. "It's a fucking body pillow."

"It's not."

"Did you get the Viagra for _me_?"

Gilbert let out a nervous laugh. "No."

"Move."

Gilbert held up his hands. "Look, Lovino, when I bought it, I wasn't—I was—"

Nope. Lovino stepped around Gilbert and plopped himself in front of the box. He tore off the wrapping paper. Gilbert stood behind him, and Lovino could hear him breathing.

Lovino popped the lid off.

"Is that another box?"

"Lovino—"

"I've waited all month for this stupid gift, shut up." Lovino took off the top of the other box. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Look—"

Lovino turned halfway around. "How many boxes are there?"

"Uh."

There were twelve fucking boxes. Lovino could feel his face heating up the more boxes he uncovered. Gilbert just sat on the couch and hid his face, listening to Lovino rant. Because _what the fuck_?

The last box, no bigger than his palm. "I swear to God," Lovino said, "there better be something _in_ here. If I went through that month of literal fucking hell for you to give me an empty box that was in twelve other empty boxes, I will murder you."

"Lovino, please…"

Lovino scoffed. "Why? What is it? Is it…" Lovino blinked. "It's a ring."

Gilbert seemed to be hyperventilating. Lovino was processing.

A ring. In a small felt box. Lovino looked at the twelve other boxes.

"Did… Was that a proposal? Did you propose to me with twelve—thirteen fucking boxes? And then did you… You didn't buy Ludwig Viagra, did you?"

Gilbert took a deep breath and stood from the couch, then got down on one knee in front of Lovino. They were eye level, and Lovino wished he hadn't sat down to open this fucking present.

"Lovino—"

"Wait, you covered for the ring by saying you bought your brother—"

Gilbert cleared his throat. "You. I… I, uh, love you. You're angry. You're angry a lot for someone so short. Not short! Just, you know… I thought you were really annoying when I first met you. And, like, who would get upset at a huge Christmas gift? Weird." He let out a nervous laugh.

Lovino furrowed his eyebrows. "Thanks?"

"No, I—well. I just. We already live together. And we have the dog together. And. I figured it was sort of…" Gilbert's cheeks were red. "Marry?"

"This ring is too small."

Gilbert looked at Lovino's hands. "You have very stout fingers."

"Fuck you."


End file.
